


Cold Coffee

by mintywrites



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2136195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintywrites/pseuds/mintywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lazy morning, Numbers tells Wrench the story of one of his tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Coffee

Wrench opened his eyes groggily and was met with the increasingly familiar sight of Numbers’ bedroom. He smiled as he rolled over, hoping to see Numbers sleeping peacefully beside him, but his eyes widened when he realized that his partner’s side of the bed was empty. Wrench sat up quickly. He had no reason to think the worst, but he got up to look for Numbers anyway. Wrench swiftly strode out of Numbers' room and down the hallway. He let out a small sigh of relief when he turned the corner into the kitchen and saw his partner pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Numbers looked up at Wrench and smiled. _Good morning. I was just about to wake you._

Wrench approached the smaller man and leaned down to give him a kiss. Numbers pulled away after a few seconds and smiled as he raised his hands to sign, _Don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to drink my coffee while it’s still hot._

Wrench smirked as Numbers poured him a cup and picked up both mugs to bring over to the small kitchen table. Wrench sat down and watched Numbers push one of the mugs over to him, and then take the first sip of his over-caffeinated beverage. Numbers was still wearing the boxers he’d slept in the night before, and he had put on a t-shirt after waking up. Wrench's eyes moved to Numbers' arm, and he could see one of Numbers’ tattoos peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. Wrench had always wondered what it meant- he had seen it, touched it, kissed it, so many times, but he had never asked about it.

Numbers noticed Wrench staring and put down his coffee. He smirked as he signed, _What are you looking at?_

Wrench snapped back to reality and blushed slightly when he realized that Numbers was almost done with his coffee, whereas Wrench hadn’t even started his. He straightened his posture, leaning back in his chair slightly. _I was just wondering what your tattoo meant._

 _This one?_ Numbers lifted his sleeve to reveal the rest of the tattoo. It was very small, the smallest one Numbers had. A simple, handwritten font spelled out the date _12/24/1987._

_Yeah. Why Christmas Eve? I thought you didn’t do holidays._

_I don’t. This day was the start of my new life._

Wrench tilted his head. _You mean the day you ran away from home?_

_No, that was back in September. I had emptied my bank account, the one my parents had been putting money into, and I bought a car and drove. The piece of shit car broke down here, in Fargo. Didn’t have enough money to fix it. Lived in the car for a while. Ate gas station food every day. On Christmas eve, I ran out of money. I went to the homeless shelter. They had a big Christmas eve dinner. Best food I had ever tasted- food I got without my parents’ money. From then on I didn't rely on them for anything anymore._

At that, Numbers picked up his coffee and resumed drinking.

Wrench didn’t know what to say. He looked down at the table, turning his mug in his hands. He had always known that Numbers ran away after a year of college and cut himself off from his family, but he never thought about what had happened to him in between leaving home and getting a job with the syndicate. And Numbers always dressed so nicely and enjoyed such high-end things, Wrench couldn’t imagine him being homeless. But along with this awkward tension, Wrench also felt a bit warm and fuzzy inside. In the beginning of their partnership, Numbers had hardly spoken about his personal life. But here he was, freely sharing stories about his life from before they met.

When Wrench looked up from his still-full and now room-temperature coffee mug, Numbers had gotten up from the table and was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. He turned to look at Wrench and said, _I’ve got cereal and oatmeal. Which one do you want?_

Wrench smiled and signed back, _Oatmeal sounds good._

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh sorry I'm really bad at ending fics. Hope you liked it :) I chose 1987 for Numbers' tattoo because I figured that he was around 39 in 2006, when the show took place, so he was born in 1968 and was 19 years old in 1987.


End file.
